


hand me down my suit and tie

by burnells



Category: Umineko no Naku Koro ni | When the Seagulls Cry
Genre: (this is what fucking happens when you murder everyone rudolf you heathen), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Author can't write, Dream Sequences, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, but they'll be damned if they aren't trying, namely rudolf family culprit theory, rudocentric shit, ship's more platonic than anything lol, some good old 3am angst lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:00:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23354308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burnells/pseuds/burnells
Summary: Rudolf was dreaming again.
Relationships: (but only if you squint real hard), Ushiromiya Krauss/Ushiromiya Rudolf
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	hand me down my suit and tie

Rudolf was dreaming again.

He could tell he was dreaming, by this point. All of the tell-tale signs were there. For starters, the air around him brushed against him much softer than any air did in the world he knew, and it carried a faint aroma of roses and some kind of sweet snack that he’d never smelled anything as great as in his life. More signs of things being off were the numbers on his watch: they were hours off, and somehow, they kept changing every time he looked away from them. Furthermore, no matter how hard he searched all around the pockets of his clothing (which was much different than what he was used to), not a single item of gold (not even his wedding ring!) could be found on his possession, a sure-fire sign that something was wrong.

The place he was at right now? Well, that was yet another sign of his mind deluding him.  
Most of that was down to the fact that this place should no longer have existed at all.

Gently, he walked down the empty rose garden, bright, blooming petals fluttering around the bushes of plants. He’d wandered around this lonely landscape, which he could only escape to within his dreams, for months now. It wasn’t hard to remember, though: in fact, Rudolf still did remember every nook and cranny of the old mansion, and somehow, despite everything that had happened, he couldn’t bring himself to try and forget any of it.

He wasn’t scared of letting the memories fade away. That was stupid, and he was no coward. Only idiots, like the people who he had to leave behind here, could ever get themselves hung up on stupid emotions like that.

Coming across a sparkling, glassy window in the pristine house, Rudolf peered into the glass, getting a better view at how the dream world had dressed him. A large hat with an even larger brim sat carefully on his head, coating the back like a helmet, and a thick, white ribbon covered around the brim. Below this, a red, bow-like embellishment sat upon his chest, covering several layers of fabric which fashioned themselves into a shirt before travelling down to a large, gimmicky belt which held them all together. 

As far as pants went, his old trousers with the embroidered were there (of course, he thought, this recurring dream would never let him forget his roots) and were covered only by tall red boots with buckles similar to the one on his belt. His hair was slightly longer than he knew it was, and it was let down, flowing behind him, almost similar to the style that he had kept as a child. The outfit was pulled together with two thin gloves covering his hands and an oversized purple cape with golden trimmings at the sides shrouding his back. 

Rudolf sighed into the reflection, letting out a dark chuckle. He looked fucking stupid. 

Even still, he wasn’t inclined to disagree with whatever kind of story his mind was choosing to put him through. After all, it wasn’t like it would matter. The place he was in didn’t exist anymore to him, anyway, so why should he bother himself over something like that?

Cape flowing gently behind him, he continued his journey, following around the sides of the mansion like a hand on a clock. He couldn’t change location, from what it seemed (otherwise, he assured himself, he would have already been sat in a hot tub surrounded by several young women), but such a fate wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened to him, in all honesty. At the very least, he could roam for a few hours, relax himself before he had to wake up in a world where no trace of his childhood could ever exist any longer in a positive light.

No, Rudolf. He closed his eyes for a split second, focusing himself as he let out a sigh. It wasn’t that his childhood didn’t exist anymore: it was, moreso, the fact that he didn’t care about anything within his childhood anymore. His family, other than his wife and children, were nothing but dirt in his eyes: cheap dirt, idiots who placed value in sentiments, who wasted their lives away just sitting there and doing nothing, keeping themselves sound with the promise that love and care was all that they’d needed to feel satisfied in life. 

Rudolf was never like that: Rudolf was smart. He had always known what he wanted, whether it was girls, money, attention, or anything else, and not once did he ever hesitate in, nor regret, his actions. He was decisive, cunning, strong, manly, everything that the rest of his useless siblings and parents could never be. 

That was why, even now, months after everything had happened, he stood firm in his mindset that shooting those bullets, carrying those bodies, watching the life fade from the eyes of his whole family bar three people, was worth it for what he got in return. Nobody but him in his family could have ever made as sturdy of a decision with as little remorse or weakness, and that was one thing he took great pride in.

…Besides, even if he did feel remorseful, he’d never let it show. Remorse was the sign of a weak man, somebody who couldn’t be trusted with anything, and that was not the kind of person Rudolf was. If spending all of his time within dreams stuck in this endless journey around and inside the mansion he grew up in would stop him from feeling dissatisfied with his actions whilst he was awake, well, that was a sacrifice he was willing to make.

Suddenly, he froze into place, gaze landing on the corner of the steps.

Rudolf had been around the mansion so much in this dream state that he knew its off by heart. There was never any difference in it, on its own: everything from the way the sun shone to the amount of rose petals floating around to the size of the stones in the gaps between the concrete had always been exactly the same. 

Even so, though, whatever he was looking at, the little blue balled-up thing in the corner of the steps, was completely unfamiliar. He’d never seem it at all in his previous journeys, nor could he remember seeing anything like it in his visits to the mansion during the family conference. Childhood? Well, it was hard to say: Rudolf had been many places in his youth, and lots of his memories had kind of jumbled themselves up over the years, but even so, he couldn’t quite scratch the surface of what he was looking at.

Not caring about the grass he stepped on, Rudolf made for the corner of the steps, cape following gracefully behind him. As he approached, though, the strange thing in the corner of the steps, as if noticing him, started to move.

Rudolf blinked in surprise as it emerged. What he’d been looking at wasn’t a strange blue ball. In fact, it wasn’t a thing at all; peering up at Rudolf was, unexpectedly, the face of a boy no older than eleven, one which he felt like he hadn’t seen in a thousand years.

Gulping, Rudolf’s eyes widened. To find an unusual object in a space like this was one thing: to find a person was another entirely. 

Nevertheless, the familiar face of the young boy remained, looking up at him in wonder and awe. Softly, and with a gentle yet strict intonation that Rudolf knew all too well, he spoke. “…Who are you?”

Looking down at the boy, it wasn’t hard to see why Rudolf had mistaken him. Until he had looked up at Rudolf, the kid had been curled up in the corner, a book about the solar system nestled gently in his lap. His entire suit was blue, and yet it was a different, darker shade to the suit Rudolf had previously owned himself. …It really was scruffier than he’d remembered, wasn’t it?

More importantly, Rudolf noticed, the boy’s head had been tilted down seemingly on purpose. Looking at him now, it wasn’t difficult to notice the tell-tale signs that something had happened: a dark purple bruise covered the right side of his face, and his lip was bleeding ever-so-slightly, possibly due to the impact that had caused him the bruise in the first place. The red around his eyes, as upset as acknowledging it probably made the boy, told no lie about how he felt about it all.

Rudolf answered the young boy’s question with another one. “…Are you crying?”  
The young boy sniffed, hurriedly wiping his eyes with his sleeve. Rudolf noticed he winced a little when the sleeve brushed past the bruise, and he couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. “…No, I’m not,” he eventually said, letting out a deep breath. “…Crying is for girls.”

At this, Rudolf laughed. The boy in front of him had always been blunt, hadn’t he? …Of course, it was fine to say this sort of thing. He didn’t exist anymore, anyway. 

Nevertheless, the boy in front of him continued staring, eyebrows furrowed a little in boredom. He folded his arms a little, as if to say, “What else do you want now?” 

Rudolf knew what the boy in front of him was really like. He would grow to be somebody awful, somebody useless, somebody who Rudolf would look at and say to himself, look, here’s somebody worse than you, here’s the reason you shouldn’t have a heart, because you’ll end up like this bastard and use all of your kindness up within seconds. 

…And yet, even so, Rudolf continued to speak to him, perhaps moreso from a growing curiosity and a desire to spend the time in this dreamworld with somebody other than himself. He crouched down gently, meeting eyes with the boy in front of him as he placed his hands on his knees casually. 

“Why are you crying, anyway?” he asked.

The boy looked away, and he muttered something incoherent. Rudolf blinked, then rephrased his question.

“Hey, brat,” he said, pulling on the little boy’s ear playfully. “Come on. I asked you, why are you crying?”

Dropping his book in the process, the boy grasped on to Rudolf’s fingertips, letting out a little whine at the gesture. When Rudolf stopped, the messy boy fumbled a little on the grassy floor before getting back into his position on the corner of the steps. Upon returning, he locked eyes with Rudolf, and it was clear that the older of the two wasn’t going to let him get away without answering his question.

The boy sighed before answering. “…Father got… mad at me again…”

Well, that explained it.

It was no secret to anyone that this island was a rough place for children to stay on. In fact, he couldn’t think off the top of his head of a single child who had benefitted in the care of the Ushiromiya family. George, maybe, Battler and Ange, sure, but everybody else, himself included, he felt had a flawed upbringing at best. 

What surprised him more, then, was the reaction of the boy after this. Nervously, as if putting up his defences, the little boy spoke again, wary voice stuttering only a little. 

“…Are you going to shout at me?” he said.

Rudolf let out a little chuckle at the naivety of the boy in front of him. He really didn’t know anything, did he? …Even since the start, he’d been an idiot. Rudolf should have figured that out years ago.

“Can’t be bothered to,” he replied curtly, quickly sitting down himself next to the boy. The boy, in turn, moved his book so as to make space for Rudolf and his strangely dramatic outfit.

After doing this, the little boy looked up at him curiously once more, a quizzical expression gracing his face. There was a moment’s silence between the two of them before he eventually spoke, voice lowered ever-so-slightly. “…I’ve never seen you around here before,” he said softly. Then, again, “Are you a friend of Father’s?”

Rudolf looked out at the rose garden before him, letting out a breath, then back to the boy next to him. “…Something like that,” he answered, resting his hands behind his head.

The boy was quiet for another second, but it was clear to Rudolf that he was no longer interested in reading his book. He said something Rudolf couldn’t quite hear, and his face went a little red.

“Huh?” Rudolf said, leaning in. The boy flushed a bright red colour, and Rudolf gave a smirk. “Come on.”

Finally, the boy asked what had been on his mind ever since he’d seen Rudolf come near him. “…Are you a… um, a-a s-sor…cerer?” he managed to stammer out.

Rudolf looked at himself for a second, then back at the boy, then at himself, and so on. After a few seconds, he let out a laugh, which seemed to cause the boy to retreat a little.

“Why?” was Rudolf’s teasing answer. “…Are you scared?”

“O-of course not!” came the clearly daunted reply. “…B-but if you are, t-then…!”

Rudolf’s laughter continued, and the expression of the boy in front of him remained indignant. After a while, though, he calmed down, and he gently laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder. At first, the boy jumped at the contact, but he eventually seemed to become comfortable with it, almost relaxing into Rudolf’s gesture.

The latter thought to himself for a minute, then eventually answered. “…Yeah, I’m a sorcerer,” he said, leaning back against the wall of the mansion. “…But, I’m a nice sorcerer. …Not gonna hurt you, or anything.” 

There was no harm in saying that, was there? It wasn’t as if the boy would be able to tell he was lying. This was Rudolf’s dream, after all: technicalities considered, he really did control this world. As soon as he chose to wake up, this boy would no longer exist, forgotten in time, cursed to be remembered only from the circumstances surrounding his death on that fateful day. In that sense, Rudolf guessed that he really was a sorcerer.

The little boy looked up at him, eyes widened. “…So you really are a sorcerer…”  
His expression was so innocent, so instantly trusting, and Rudolf almost felt bad.

Almost.

Quickly, the little boy stood up, grasping his book as he did so. “…Um,” he said, face heating up a little again, “…If you’re a sorcerer, could you… help me with something?”

Rudolf looked up at him, and the boy waited in bated breath for a response. The corners of Rudolf’s lips turned up into a sarky smile.

“Say, can’t you do something yourself?” he said. “…Aren’t you supposed to be the best at everything?”

The boy’s face flushed a deep red, clearly aggrieved by that answer. “Y-yes, but…”

His eyebrows knitted themselves together, and his grip on the book in front of him only got tighter. Well, well, well, Rudolf thought bitterly. The boy couldn’t do anything at all on his own, just like Rudolf had suspected. There was no wonder that Rudolf had been able to take him down so easily in the real world, then. Just like in this dream state, he was an idiot: a stupid, bumbling idiot who couldn’t put his money where his mouth was, who couldn’t pull through when pulling through was needed the most.

“So, you can’t do it,” he sneered.

The boy averted his eyes downwards, a special kind of shame evident in his expression. He muttered something that Rudolf couldn’t quite make out, and the latter let out an annoyed sigh. He really had always been this stubbornly stupid, hadn’t he?

It was then that the boy said something Rudolf never thought in a million years he’d ever hear from him. 

“…Please,” he said, eyes closed defeatedly, hands balled into fists as he shook a little. “…I’ve been trying to fix it for ages, and… Dad says I shouldn’t have broken it in the first place, but…”

Humility wasn’t becoming of the boy, Rudolf thought sourly. The brat in front of him had, from the little Rudolf remembered him, always been arrogant and forthcoming, and behaviour like this made him wonder just what had hardened him over the years. No matter what it was, though, there he was, still standing there, begging for Rudolf to help him, placing all of his trust in a man claiming to be a sorcerer. That was something that had never changed, he thought. Even to his death, the man had been gullible as all hell. That, Rudolf remembered, somehow unable to bring a smile to his own face, had been that man- no, that boy’s- downfall.

“Damn right, you shouldn’t have broken it in the first place,” Rudolf said, standing up with a degree of confidence. “…I am a sorcerer, though, so I guess it’s my job, right?” Helping this kid was the most entertaining thing he could do right now, and really, what was there to lose? 

It wasn’t as though Rudolf was subconsciously trying to remember him, he told himself. Even so, the image of the boy in front of him, so vivid and strong in its portrayal, let out a relieved smile that stretched from ear to ear and seemed almost to light up the area around the both of them, and Rudolf felt a part of himself melt. 

Why was he being shown this by his own mind? He didn’t regret anything that happened in the real world, and ever since he, Kyrie, and Battler had left the island, he’d never felt a glimmer of regret. 

Why, then, did he suddenly feel an urge to protect and help the boy in front of him? Why did his heart sink upon the reminder that, no matter what he did, this kid would never get the future he deserved? The kid in front of him, so surprised, so elated at the fact that this complete stranger was willing to help him out, so loving, so instantly, stupidly, painfully trusting, would never receive a happiness like this ever again. Instead, he’d grow up to be a shell of himself, endlessly wasting away, trusting people and getting betrayed over and over again like a broken record. 

It was his own fault, Rudolf told himself, turning away from the boy resentfully. It was his own fault, so he couldn’t fathom at all why a part of him genuinely wanted to help him out.

Rudolf felt the little boy take his hand eagerly, and a rushed, yet lighthearted, “It’s over this way,” hit his ears. Maybe it was because of the way the dream had distorted his perceptions that he felt no desire to let go. Either way, he followed the keen young boy in front of him, his boots pushing off over and over again from the ground in front of him in his efforts to keep up. Even in the dream, his age was getting to him, he thought, a breathless chuckle barely escaping his lips at the idea as he continued to run.

The boy took him all the way around the edges of the mansion, careful not to disturb any areas that he didn’t have to, then up through some grass towards the walls of the mansion itself, where he finally stopped, letting go of Rudolf’s hand gently. The man, upon this release, placed his hands gently on his own knees, letting out a tired breath. Since when had the boy been so fast? 

It didn’t matter, anyway. As soon as he looked up, he saw what the boy had been guiding him to, and- 

Hold on. This wasn’t right. 

This wasn’t right at all.

Rudolf’s gaze landed on the very thing that the boy had been taking him to. In front of him stood a clear, glossy window, broken in the centre, with cracks forming all around the hole. 

The boy he’d just encountered had been sitting, reading a book upon the grass next to the mansion. From all of the time Rudolf had spent with him over the years, he knew that this boy wouldn’t do anything violent enough to even come near to breaking a window. The only time he could picture a window being broken by that person, he thought, a little sardonically, was if the boy was punched into it. The boy in front of him had, even though they looked quite nasty, only a couple of bruises on his face, so that was out of the question. 

For that reason alone, Rudolf could tell that the boy didn’t break the window in front of him. That was just the kicker, though. 

The reality of the situation was that he knew for a fact that the boy in front of him hadn’t broken that window. He knew for a fact that the boy hadn’t broken that window, because Rudolf remembered breaking it himself.

“…You didn’t do this, did you?” he said quietly, not daring to look down at the boy. The boy, in turn, shook his head.

“…That’s not true, Sorcerer,” he blurted out, almost hurried in his response. “It was me who did it. …I was playing ball, and…”

He trailed off, and Rudolf noticed a degree of pleading in his voice that hadn’t been there before, as though he were trying to convince him of the truth. Rudolf frowned; that wasn’t right. There was no reason for the boy in front of him to lie, and it wouldn’t benefit him in any way to do so. So did that mean that the boy really did break it? But, no, he remembered: Rudolf really had broken it himself, so he knew that it hadn’t been the boy’s doing.

Even so, the boy stood firm in his claim that he had done it. …Why, though? Lying wouldn’t help him at all: in fact, it would make things even worse for him. His father would get angry at him, and he’d be put through punishment instead of whoever’s fault it actually was. There was no reason for him to put himself through such pain over the person who deserved it.

…Unless…

Rudolf shook off the idea that came to mind before it even fully registered in his brain. No. The boy in front of him wasn’t that kind of person. He would never do something like that.

Turning his eyes to the boy beneath him, Rudolf’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you lying to me?” he said, an air of dominance surrounding him.

The boy gulped, and a bead of sweat ran down his face. “I’m not lying!”

“Yeah, you are.” 

Rudolf grabbed the ear of the boy in front of him and yanked it a little, causing the younger to let out a small whine once more. Quickly, he gave in. “…Okay, okay!!! I’ll tell you, so just… s-stop pulling!”

Smirking a little at this, Rudolf let go finally, hand returning to rest on his own hip. He really was just a little kid, wasn’t he? …Well, it didn’t matter, anyway. 

Rudolf bent down a little to get to the eye-level of the boy, cape resting gently on his back. He rested his elbows on his knees so as to rest his head in his hands and watched the boy in front of him fumble over his words.

“…I didn’t break it, Sorcerer…” he eventually managed to get out. “…Actually, my brother did…”

Rudolf nodded, closing his eyes. He had been spot on. 

Even still, though, his face clouded over in irritation. Nothing had been explained to him at all, had it? There was still no reason for this boy to be covering for Rudolf. He wasn’t the type of person. He wasn’t, and Rudolf knew it.  
He wasn’t. He just had to tell that to himself, and it would be true, wouldn’t it?

“Why are you covering for him?” he asked coldly, taking his hands away from his face. 

Think, Rudolf, think yourself, and it can be true. Why would he take the blame?Maybe he wanted Father to be mad, so he’d get angrier later at Eva? Maybe he’d thought Father would be nicer to him if he injured him? Or, maybe he’d wanted to get hurt so he could get out of doing a chore or attending a meeting? Any one of those would do, he told himself, any one would do.

There was no way Rudolf would be granted that much, though, and nothing he told himself could stop the impact that the words the little boy said next had on him.

“It’s because,” he said, “I love my brother.”

No, that wasn’t true. The boy in front of him had never loved him: he’d never cared for him, not even once. Nobody in his family had ever been worth his time, much less the boy in front of him. All of them were easy sacrifices to make, weren’t they? The gold was worth all of their deaths, wasn’t it? Surely it was: it had to be, or else Rudolf couldn’t live with himself. 

“No way,” he spat. “You don’t care for your brother at all.”

No matter what he tried to force his mind to do, the boy’s face stayed in front of him, refusing to leave him alone, refusing to let him be. “No,” he argued, “I do! …I care a lot about Rudolf, and… well, sometimes, he’s a bit of a handful, but I don’t want him to get into trouble, much less…!” He gestured to the bruise on his face, and Rudolf’s eyes narrowed. 

That wasn’t true. That couldn’t be true. There had to be some kind of ulterior motive. The boy would never act like this, ever, at all, full stop. He had never cared about Rudolf: never, never, never. Rudolf had always been left to fend for himself: he had spent his whole life in the shadow of his siblings, always destined to be below them, never remembered by anybody. Hell, even his father barely acknowledged his existence, and in the rare moments that he did, it was to criticise him. The boy in front of him had never been nice to him, even to the day that he had killed him. 

…So why was he crying?

A sudden, violent urge struck him. Within seconds, his hand had grabbed the collar of the little boy and had him pressed up against the wall, covering his tears with a deeply-rooted anger. “Shut up, you brat,” he hissed, hand pushing against the neck of the boy moreso as he tried to struggle out of Rudolf’s grip. He wasn’t real, and he’d never really say this kind of thing in the real world, so it didn’t matter to him. His mind was just trying to torture him even more with these sick, sick fantasies of care, and he wasn’t going to allow any of it. “That’s not true at all. You never cared about Rudolf, ever.”

“Ngh-! Yes, I do! I really do care for Rudolf!” the boy cried, thrashing against Rudolf’s grip. The older man tried to stop the tears from coming, and yet, even in a dream, even when he knew this wasn’t real, he couldn’t stop them from streaming down his face. “I know I’m not the best brother, but I really do! Why else would I try to take the blame for him when he breaks stuff? I don’t want him to get beaten by Father, too, isn’t it obvious?”

“…No, no way that’s true… No way…!” 

Rudolf couldn’t even find any kind of excuse for himself anymore. Instead, he remained there, grip getting tighter on the boy’s collar, pushing him further into the wall of the mansion as tears ran down his face. He kept trying to remind himself of how awful the person in front of him was, and yet all he could see was a frightened boy, a boy who’d been put through so much at the hands of his father, a boy who’d been backstabbed, betrayed, and swindled over and over again, and a boy that, despite that, placed his utmost trust in everyone around him anyway. 

Swiftly, against his will, the memories came rushing back to Rudolf, hitting him like a bus. Everything he’d been repressing since his return from Rokkenjima flooded into his mind like a river, and he shut his eyes tightly, unable to stop the tears from clouding his vision. He remembered all the times that he’d broken things, when he’d thought he’d gotten away with it and had later seen his brother walking out from the dining room, bandages covering his face. He remembered all of the times that he’d been too scared to go to sleep, too scared to leave the mansion or walk home alone, when his brother had let him sleep in his bed, waited for hours for him at the dock, and told him that, no matter what, he’d never let him feel alone. He remembered, even on the night of the massacre, how kindly his brother had acted towards him at the dinner table, how upset he was when he’d seen the bodies laid out on the floor, how, even upon seeing Rudolf behind Battler at the door, holding the gun up towards him, he didn’t look angry or annoyed, an expression of almost an accepting sadness being the only thing on his face, as if to say, “If you have to do this, Rudolf, I won’t blame you: I will be upset, of course, but I could never hate you.”

The boy cried out fake pleas from underneath Rudolf, trying to release himself from the grip one last time. “I do, I do, I do!” he shouted, tears coming down his own face at just how much Rudolf’s grip was hurting him. “I love my brother! I love him, and I won’t let Father hurt him! I’m his Aniki, and no matter what happens, I’ll always protect him, because I know that, even if he breaks things, even if he says things he doesn’t mean, even if he hurts me sometimes, he’s a good person! I trust him, and that’s why, no matter what happens, I will always-!”

The scripted, unrealistic voice of the boy was suddenly cut off, and his squirming stopped. Only after a few seconds did Rudolf open his eyes.

He wished he hadn’t. The sight before him was something that nothing could have prepared him for.

The one sunny, bright sky around him had suddenly turned dark and stormy, weather only comparable to that of the night of the Rokkenjima massacre. A gust of wind ran through Rudolf’s hair, and a mixture of hail and rain coated his outfit within seconds. His body turned cold, and a shiver went down his spine, but not even that was enough to distract from what was in front of him.

The young boy in front of him had disappeared completely, like a message in a bottle. In his place , still held by the collar of his shirt, was the body of a man no more than five years older than him, a man who he never thought he’d have to face ever again.

Rudolf’s eyes widened, and his tears stopped out of sheer fear. “…Krauss…?”

Krauss opened his mouth to say something, but he didn’t have the chance to. The sound of a huge lightning strike echoed around the two of them, and suddenly, Krauss had stopped moving.

It took Rudolf a few seconds, in the darkness, to realise why he’d stopped moving. When he finally did, though, he couldn’t stop himself from screaming.

In front of him stood Krauss, but not as he’d remembered him. Instead of the overly-arrogant, idiotic man that he was familiar with, there was the man as he’d seen him last: lifeless eyes, blood trickling down his lip, right side of his head blown to absolute smithereens by the rifle that Rudolf had held in his hand. The thick, red liquid travelled down his face, and Rudolf’s hands were quickly covered in a mixture of blood and rain that he felt as though he would never truly be able to get off. 

The rainwater seeped into the hole in Krauss’ head, and the liquid quickly overflowed around the wall in front of Rudolf, ripped veins and arteries letting themselves become known as the liquid surrounding them became more and more transparent, and- oh, God, was that his brain? Rudolf knew that he needed to leave as soon as possible, and yet the sight somehow commanded him to stay, making him wait and see exactly what he’d done with his own eyes with the knowledge that the sight in front of him was all his own fault.

The image didn’t stop there, though. Within seconds, the relaxing, nostalgic scent of the rose garden escaped him, being replaced speedily by an odour worse than he could ever imagine, all coming from the body in front of him. The vision of Krauss’ body had, within a matter of seconds, somehow suddenly began to decompose itself, skin melting off the face like wax off a candle, hard, congealed blood curdling like milk over the blasted-open wound on his head. The odour was attracting flies: it was just a body by now, barely recognisable as Krauss, and still Rudolf wept, unable to stop the fear that was washing over him.  
What had he done? He wanted so badly for the sight in front of him to stop, for the pain of the massacre to stop, for everything to have just gone on. There was no other way for them to get the gold, of course: he understood that much, but even still he crumbled, unable to cope with the reality of the situation. Why did they have to die? Why did he have to kill him?

If Krauss had seen him like this, he told himself, he would have come over to him instantly. He would have asked Rudolf what he was upset about, and he would have told him to stop crying, and, somehow, whether it be at the expense of something he cared about or himself over Rudolf, he would have made the problem go away. He would have knelt down, or, if Rudolf was at the age he was now, looked up, and peered gently into Rudolf’s eyes, offering him a gentle pat on the back, or even a hug, if he was receptive enough to such a thing, and told him that everything was okay, that everything was going to be fine, that no matter what happened, his Aniki would protect him.

Krauss hadn’t seen him, though. Krauss couldn’t save him anymore: Rudolf had killed him, slaughtered him with his own bare hands, and left him to rot on that island with everybody else. 

That’s right; he’d murdered Krauss.

And, no matter what, he realised, trembling in the rain, tears streaming down his face as he held up the decaying body of a man who had arguably cared about him more than anyone else ever had, Krauss would never forgive him for that.

-

“…dolf?! Rudolf!!!”

Rudolf awoke, gasping for air as he clutched the sheets below him.  
It didn’t take him long to realise where he was. He let out a sigh of sheer bliss as he saw the pale, slender hand of Kyrie resting gently on his shoulder. Never before had he been so happy to be woken up.

“You’re awake…” Kyrie said, worry evident in her tone. “…Thank God. Are you alright?”

Leaning back against the headboard of the bed, Rudolf let out a sigh. “…Yeah, I’m fine,” he eventually said, eyes accustoming themselves to the dark pretty easily. Kyrie gave a gentle, almost effortless smile, which Rudolf could just about make out thanks to the light coming in from the hallway, and she cupped Rudolf’s face in her hands.

“You were thrashing about in your sleep,” she said. She spoke as though it were an observation, and her voice was surprisingly neutral in tone. “…You were talking to yourself about something, but…”

Rudolf flushed a little, and he scratched the back of his head a little awkwardly. He hoped he hadn’t said anything embarrassing in his sleep… “Yeah, yeah, sorry,” he said, only a little sheepish in his demeanour. “…Just a bad dream, heh…”

Kyrie looked at him suspiciously. Rudolf was no genius, but it didn’t take one to realise that Kyrie was more than a bit concerned. She looked into his eyes for a few seconds, trying intently to study him, then sighed a little defeatedly.

“Rudolf?” she asked.

Rudolf blinked. “…What?”

“Do you regret the massacre?”

At these words, Rudolf froze in place, feeling some part of him tense up. Did he regret the massacre? It was a strange question to ask him, wasn’t it, all things considered: he never had before, but when everything was considered, the answer was different, wasn’t it? What about his father, for example? What about his memories on Rokkenjima, what about Eva, Rosa, Kr-

His train of thought stopped as the truth dawned on him, reality of the situation hitting him like a ton of bricks. His feelings didn’t matter at all, did they? There was no point debating a question if you already knew what the answer had to be.  
The massacre was over, and here he was with Kyrie. Regret wasn’t an option he could choose, nor was it something he could afford, and that was one thing that not even a mountain of gold could allow him.

“…No way,” he said, letting out a chuckle that he prayed to whatever God was above him didn’t sound as forced as it was. The corners of Kyrie’s mouth turned up. That was the right answer.

“Good,” she said, closing her eyes as her hand gently trailed down Rudolf’s body. “…There’s no turning back now, anyway.”

Rudolf averted his eyes from Kyrie, staring at himself in the mirror on the side of the room. The lack of light spread across his figure made it so that he couldn’t see his own expression properly, and the mirror showed this; no matter how hard he strained his eyes, his face was unrecognisable, and it felt in more ways than one as though he’d become completely foreign to even himself.

Sighing, Rudolf turned away from both Kyrie and the mirror, not wanting to face such a shadow any longer. He rested the side of his head on the pillow behind him, a deep fatigue overcoming him. “Yeah…” 

He felt Kyrie’s arms lace themselves around him carefully. He knew she loved him, clearly, and he loved her too, yet even so, it felt more to him like a restraint than a gesture of care. 

“You should get some rest, Rudolf,” she said, pressing her lips gently to the back of his neck. Rudolf knew this was her way of showing kindness, and he let out a satisfied breath at the sensation, curling up against the pillow. He shouldn’t have any regrets about this. It was over and done with, after all, wasn’t it? They had won: they had gotten the gold, and all it had costed them were the lives of his family. Those lives didn’t matter to him at all, no matter what his stupid subconscious dreams would tell him about their care for him. Not even Krauss could reach him anymore.

Even so, no matter how much he told himself this, Rudolf couldn’t get back to sleep that night.

**Author's Note:**

> i have no fucking excuses for this absolute shithole of a ship that i've fallen into, so i won't pretend i do. unfortunately for everyone involved, though, i've made it my life's mission to shove so many fics on this shiptag that it comes up in the reccommended whenever some poor unfortunate soul stumbles upon the umi tag. ah... the perks of adhd.
> 
> anyway, i finished this in, like, a day... quarantine is fucking kicking my ass rn and even if it wasn't my brain won't let me stop thinking about umineko for even five seconds, so that's that. if you're wondering if the title is from the fucking cheeseburger family, the answer is yes because i had it on loop writing this and have zero self restraint lol kill me.
> 
> i wanted to write abt post!rfct rudo's skewed perception of krauss based on both his past care and devotion to him and his present forced hatred towards him, and i also wanted to write sorcerer!rudo, so 6.5k words later here we are. major props to my friend dan if he sees this btw, he fucking sat there and read the entire thing for me even though he HATES rudolf and krauss... what a lad. mad respect.
> 
> anyway, hope you enjoy! i dont know what else to shove here bt stay vibin lol


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